


A touch of Magic

by forgotten_silence



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 23:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18040895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgotten_silence/pseuds/forgotten_silence
Summary: Granger. In his Summer House. In the middle of Autumn.





	A touch of Magic

 

**.**

_**Draco** _

_**.**_

 

**Now**

It isn’t coercion if she is a willing participant. That is what he tells himself. 

He wonders if she had chosen the embroidered gold she is wearing, or if it had been chosen for her. For whatever reason, he is glad she’s not wearing a deeper colour. Her skin already looks pale in gold. In a more contrasting colour, she would look even more sickly.

“Here,” his mother uncorks a small vial and hands it to her. “Drink.” She hands a second vial to him. “You too, Draco.”

Granger doesn’t move. “I’m fine,” she says.

“You can’t go out there looking like you are about to faint, Miss Granger,” his mother says gently. She reaches to tuck a strand of Granger’s hair into place, and Granger flinches as his mother’s fingers brush against her ear. “It’s a Calming Draught mixed with a few drops of Tempus Affectio.” Having secured Granger’s hair to her satisfaction, his mother steps back and admires her work. “Drink it, children,” she says again. “I will not have this look like a farce.”

Granger sniffs the potion and then watches as he drinks his. Then she gulps it down in one go and hands the vial to the waiting house-elf. The reaction is immediate. Her cheeks warm up to a healthier glow, her shoulders relax, and she looks more comfortable than he had seen her in a long time. When she turns to look up at him, her eyes shine and her lips curve into a smile.

He wonders whether his mother gave him the same potion she gave Granger, because when he returns her gaze, all he feels is the churning in his stomach, and a weird sense of detachment from the calming draught. All the same, Draco forces himself to smile.

The wedding is beautiful, just like his mother wanted. Granger smiles at him throughout, and blushes at the right moments. Her eyes are warm, welcoming even, when he takes her hands in his. And she smiles at him as Severus Snape binds them together, as the tendrils of magic snake their way around their conjoined hands, as she opens her mouth and repeats her vows, as the enchanted camera snaps away.

This is how they will be immortalized; young and in love, in a gazebo crawling with roses.

This is how she saves him.

* * *

 

**Before**

**.**

 

He finds her in their summer garden, lurking among the weeds in the middle of the night like the thief she is. He doesn’t know who is more surprised when their spell-work light up the night enough for them to recognize each other. Surely, it must have been him. It is his garden. She would have been an idiot not to expect him in his own garden. 

For a split second, he is too shocked to say anything.  _Granger._  In  _his_  Summer House. In the middle of Autumn. Then he catches the shadow that is her wand moving, and he fires a curse at her, barely dodging her spell.  _“Petrificius Totalus!”_  He yells just as she screams  _“Expelliarmus!”_

His spell hits her in the chest as hers hit his wand. It flies out of his grasp and lands harmlessly beside her already frozen figure.

She comes to with a groan. Then, she seems to notice the wand pressed against her temple, and her eyes travel up the arm holding it, widening when they land on his face.  _Then_ she notices her binds and start to struggle against them.

“Did you really think, Granger, that you could sneak up on me  _in my own home?_ ”

“This isn’t your home,” she says, casting her eyes wildly around and thrashing against the binds tying her.

“And yet, here I am,” he sneers.”How daft have you become?”  _Mudblood._ The word is on his tongue, and yet, he can’t bring himself to say it. It makes him even angrier and he digs his wand into her temple. “What,” he hisses, “Are you doing here?”

“This isn’t England,” she whispers, “This can’t be your house.”

“I asked you a question, you little-”

“Draco,” he looks up to find his mother, hand resting on the door-frame, hair disheveled from sleep. Before, Narcissa Malfoy would never have been seen with a hair out of place. But that was before. Before his father had been taken away from them. Before the Dark Lord had chosen Draco. Before his aunt had been murdered. “What is going on here? Who is there?”

Granger stops thrashing at the sound of her voice. 

“It’s Hermione Granger, mother,” he says.

* * *

 

**Now**

**.**

He knows the potion has worn off the moment she stops smiling. But Severus is, and always has been, meticulous with his dosage, so it is of no consequence when the facade drops. The four wedding witnesses, Foreign wizards who did not know them, but would remember what a lovely, english wedding it had been when asked, years later, who had been present for the ceremony, had already left. His mother had already retired to her quarters, and Severus had apparited back as soon as the ceremony was completed. 

It is just the two of them, and a hallway lined with windows. It should not feel claustrophobic, but it does.

“Your rooms are down the hall from there,” he tells her, pointing. “Mine is at the other end.”

“I don’t need rooms here,” she says,”I’m not staying.”

“Right,” he stares, “So you’re going to go back to Potter and Weasel in those robes?”

“I don’t need ‘rooms’ to change my clothes,” she snaps, glaring at him. “I’ve already done what you and your mother demanded. I need you to hold up  _your_ end of the deal and that is it!”

“I never asked you for this, either,” he says coldly. Any pity he’d felt for her earlier is gone. “You think I  _want_  to be tied down to someone like you?” He sneers at her.

“No,” she says after a pause, “But you were desperate enough to agree.” Then she turns on her heel and walks down the hall towards her end.

 _Mudblood,_ he wants to snarl after her. _Filthy, rotten Mudblood._  

* * *

 

**Before**

**.**

“Potter’s Mudblood?” Mother sounds bewildered, “How on earth did you find her?”

“In the garden.”

“Was it just her?” she asks, coming around to face Granger. 

“Yes, Mother.” 

“Well,” Mother sighs, “if it isn’t our lucky day. What brings you here, Miss. Granger?” She asks Granger as she lowers herself to a lounging chair across from her. “Draco, take your wand off the poor girl before it throttles her.”

Draco retracts his wand and backs away, but keeps it trained on her. Just in case. Granger’s own wand rests comfortably in his robe pocket, but you never know how adept someone is with wandless magic. Especially someone like Granger.

“Well?” Mother raises an eyebrow when Granger refuses to answer. “Do we need to call the Dark Lord?”

Granger visibly pales. But she seems to have gathered herself enough when she says, “You would have already called him if you were going to.”

“What are you doing here, girl?” 

“You won’t call the Dark Lord,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “You’re out here, the both of you, in the Welsh country side while Death Eaters run your Manor House.”

His mother’s knuckles whiten against the arms of her chair. For a moment, Draco thinks she is going to curse Granger, but all she says is, “You are a smart girl, aren’t you?”

“I’m smart enough to know that you are in hiding,” continues Granger. “I know what he ordered your son to do. I know he’s unhappy that Malfoy failed. I know your husband paid the price for it. And Bellatrix is dead. You have no place beside your Dark Lord. Not anymore.”

“I’m impressed,” says Mother with a laugh that doesn't reach her eyes. “But even if all that nonsense was true, what is to stop us from killing you?”

“Because Tom Riddle is losing,” says Granger, “And you stand to win by joining us. I’m offering you a way out.”

“And how, pray tell me child, are you going to do that?” 

“If you cooperate with us, the Order can protect you. You don’t need to-”

At this, Mother bursts out laughing. “Protect us?  _Protect?_ Like how they protected my cousin? I think not. Your lot can hardly protect yourselves, and they will not waste their time with the likes of us. Not now, and not after the war.”

“We have safe houses-”

“I’m sure. And how many of those get taken down every few weeks? They are not going to put Draco and I in a safe house. How stupid do you think I am, Miss. Granger? They will send Draco right back to the Dark Lord.”

“They won’t-”

“He will have to be a spy. And if he is lucky enough to survive this war, then what? Azkaben? House arrest? All our gold locked up and the Manor taken away from us as collateral?”

“I will vouch for you,” says Granger. “If you remain true to our cause, I will personally vouch for you. So will Harry. We will make sure you are not put in Azkaben.”

“That,” Mother shakes her head, “is not enough. Not for the sacrifice you are asking of us. We could kill you right here and deliver you to the Dark Lord. We could use you to lure Potter here and give him to the Dark Lord. In fact,” she glances at Draco, “Don’t you think that is the better idea, Draco?”

“It is, mother,” Draco knows his mother is bluffing, but Granger doesn’t. Her eyes widen in horror at the words. He can see it in her eyes. The fear. Then she sets her mouth into a firm line. 

“What do you want?” Granger says after a beat. 

“Leverage,” Mother answers, mouth curving into a smile Draco knows only too well. He isn’t sure he likes it.

“Leverage?” Granger echoes. 

“I want something that won’t go away after the war. Something that will ensure the safety of our family,” continues Mother. “A promise, of sorts, that will ascertain that the Malfoy name is not buried in dust.”

“You want us to make a vow?” Granger’s voice has raised a pitch. She looks like she doesn’t quite trust what she is hearing.

“No,” Mother shakes her head, “I want  _you_ to make a vow, Miss Granger.”

“ _Me?_ ” 

“You,” Mother nods in affirmation. “To my son.” She glances at Draco. “I want you to marry my son, in exchange for our cooperation with your side.”

 _“What?_ ” Granger sounds as incredulous as Draco feels.

“Mother,” he hears himself saying, “What are you saying?”

“Shush, Draco,” Mother says calmly, “You marry my son. Willingly. You make it appear real, now and up until a year after the war. Help re-brand the Malfoy name. No story is as touching as that of true love. My son- spoiled, pureblood, misguided finds love with non other than everyone's favourite muggleborn heroine. A story of redemption through true love.”

Draco feels faint. In front of him, Granger is vehemently shaking her head. “No. No way. You,” she points her finger, first at Draco, then at Narcissa, “you people are loathsome, disgusting  _maggots._  You will never-”

“Now, now, Miss Granger. There is no need for name calling. A simple no should be enough. I am tempted to throw you in the dungeons right now, and send word to Potter about your imprisonment.-”

“-you just try-” 

“But I feel it would serve us all better if you took some time to consider my offer-”

“-no way in hell-”

“I am not asking you to give up your life. I am simply asking you to marry him, in name if not in soul.-”

“-am I agreeing to-” 

“You need not bother keeping up appearances out of the public’s eye. And you may separate, amicably, of course,-”

“-this disgusting-”

“Mother, stop.”

“-after we have re-established our family name.”

“-farce. You are-”

“Think of what we have to offer, Miss Granger. We can offer money to your cause-”

“-all so evil and hateful-”

“Mother-”

“- healers, potions, serums, anything you need. Simply consider our offer-”

“-I will never marry-”

“-this is crazy, mother-”

“- and come back here within a week’s time.”

“-your spoiled prick of a son!”

“I am not a prick!” Draco yells, “I don’t even want to marry you, _Mudblood_. Mother, this is madness.”

“Hush, Draco,” Mother’s eyes are still on an enraged Granger. “One week’s time, Miss Granger.”

* * *

 

****Now** **

**.**

He doesn’t know how it happens. Just that Granger is the one to reach out first, her eyes red from crying, her hair a wild bird’s nest around her face. Perhaps it would have ended differently if he hadn’t happened to be walking down the hallway the moment she stepped out of her room. If he hadn’t seen her blood-shot eyes and red nose and walked towards her. If he hadn’t opened his mouth and asked her what was wrong. 

“Thinks he’s all that,” she’d hissed angrily, “such a prick.”

“Who?” he’d asked. But she hadn’t wanted to talk about it, hadn’t wanted to tell him what happened. 

Before he knows it, she is closer, too close, and her arms are reaching for his, and he forgets to ask who, or what or how.

She is gone before he wakes up, perhaps had never fallen asleep. He gets dressed, and trudges to her room, but there is no answer. She probably isn’t even there, he thinks.

It occurs to him that she’d never told him why she was so upset. Granger isn’t the sort of person to throw herself at anyone, lest of all, someone she openly despises. It must have been something big that had made her act the way she had last night. He vows to ask her the next time he sees her.

He doesn’t see her for weeks. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Before**

**.**

Granger sets off the wards three weeks after the deadline his mother had given her. This time, Draco isn’t as surprised to discover her as he had been the first time. Her appearance, however, startles him. 

Granger had always had a disheveled look about her, from the bird’s nest she called hair to the rather undignified muggle clothes she supported when they were not required to be in uniform. But this- this creature who grips his arms and leaves bloodstains on them looks wild.

“You said you have healers,” her voice shakes when she speaks. “Please, you have to help me. You have to. I’ll do what your mother said. I don’t care.” She sobs. Her face is matted with blood, and a rivulet of crimson runs from an open cut on her face. Her clothes are soaked. He can smell the rot of refuse mixed with blood. 

“You’re not making sense, Granger.” he untangles his arms from her fingers.

“You have to help. He’s dying,” she says, “I left him outside the perimeter, I couldn’t bring him in because of the Fidelius charm. Malfoy.  _Please._ I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“You were supposed to give your answer weeks ago.”

“ _Please.”_ She is starting to sound hysterical now. Draco steps back to avoid her soiled hands as she reaches for him again. 

“Who’s dying, Granger?”

“Ron.”

 

 

 

* * *

**Now**

**.**

He finds her on the second floor, next to a wall that had been reduced to dust and stones. She whirls around, wand already aimed at him, a curse already on her lips.

“Granger,” the sound of his voice makes her pause, “It’s me.” He holds up his hands to show her he had no wand, and slowly reaches one hand to remove his mask. 

“Malfoy.” she lowers her wand to her side. He doesn’t know if it is the dim light of the castle casting everything in ghastly shadows, or whether she really looks gaunt and sickly. He can’t tell. 

He can hear the sound of battle around them. Screaming, cursing, crashing as everything falls apart. Then, a deafening voice sounds above them all.

“Harry Potter is dead!” It declares triumphantly. “Lord Voldermort has won.”

Draco feels his own face mirroring Granger’s terror as the Dark Lord’s voice booms around them. As if in a trance, Granger steps towards him.

“Malfoy,” she says when she is close enough for him to hear her over the victory speech. “I’m pregnant.”

He isn’t hearing right. He can’t be. 

“I know we never talked about this. About your side winning.” It isn’t  _his_ side, he wants to tell Granger. He had never been on that side, but his mouth won’t move. “About what will happen if he won. But you have to- please, you have to promise. You have to- its your child too.”

She takes his hands, holds them together in hers as they had at their wedding. “Please. Promise me no harm will come to this child.”

“I..” still, the words wouldn’t come to him. 

“Malfoy.  _Please._ ”

“I promise.” His voice is a whisper. He doesn’t know how this could have happened. Any of it. That night, just that one night. 

He hadn’t seen her for weeks. 

“Thank you.” she drops his hands and steps back. Her cheeks are sallow, her eyes hollow, as if she had neither been sleeping nor eating.

“Granger-” he begins. He isn’t sure what he is going to ask her- whether the baby is his, or how she could be sure there is one, why she hadn't told him before. Later, he is glad he doesn’t. Glad that the silver stag arrives as it does, floating up the staircase behind her like a ghost.

The patronus isn’t meant for him, so he doesn’t hear the message. He only see how her shoulders sag in relief and her face breaks into a smile even as she wipes her eyes.

“We won,” she says, looking at him, “We won, Malfoy. Voldermort is dead.” She gives him a wide, toothy grin and dashes down the corridor after the patronus. 

They all gather in the Great Hall to mark their victory and count the dead. Draco holds his mother in his arms as she cries. “Its over Draco, darling. We can go home now. We will be safe. Oh, Draco, I’m so glad you are here.” She doesn’t talk about how they will both stand trial for their time with the Dark Lord, how his father would never set foot at home, and he doesn’t tell her about Hermione Granger carrying her grandchild.

Across from the room, he sees Granger sitting beside the Weasley girl, arms around her. The Weasley family is spread out around them. Potter, too, sits amongst them, too solemn for a person who had just won a war.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 


End file.
